Chapter 12 - THE SON ANTHONY HIDDominic did not let Sebastian inside.
Carrie did.
That caused their first argument in months.
“He could be dangerous.”
Carrie folded her arms.
“So could you when I met you.”
“That is not remotely comforting.”
“He came alone.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“He rang the bell.”
“Criminals understand doorbells.”
Carrie stared at him.
Dominic exhaled.
“Fine.”
“Fine?”
“He comes inside.”
Carrie raised an eyebrow.
“With Daniel and security present.”
“That sounds less like fine.”
“It’s the finest fine you’re getting.”
Five minutes later, Sebastian entered.
Grace had been taken upstairs with Maria.
Margaret refused to leave.
Walter stood near the fireplace.
Daniel stayed by the door.
And Dominic remained standing.
Sebastian looked around the house.
Not greedily.
Sadly.
“This isn’t the estate.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
“No.”
“I saw photographs.”
“From who?”
“Our father.”
Those two words changed the room.
Our father.
Dominic hated them.
Sebastian removed his coat.
He looked nothing like Dominic at first glance.
Lighter hair.
Thinner.
A face shaped more by restraint than intimidation.
Then he turned toward Margaret.
And Dominic saw Anthony in him.
So did she.
Margaret’s hand began trembling.
Sebastian noticed.
“Mrs. Marino.”
“You’re alive.”
“So everyone keeps mentioning.”
Margaret rose.
“I was told you died.”
“And I was told you wished I had.”
Dominic stepped between them.
“Careful.”
Sebastian looked at him.
“There he is.”
“Who?”
“Anthony’s real son.”
The phrase struck exactly where Sebastian intended.
Carrie intervened.
“You asked to speak. Speak.”
Sebastian looked at her.
“Caroline.”
Dominic immediately said, “Carrie.”
Sebastian’s mouth moved slightly.
“Carrie.”
“How do you know me?”
“Our father followed your marriage carefully.”
“He was alive for the first years.”
“Even after he died, his attorneys continued sending me information.”
Dominic’s temper surfaced.
“Information about my wife?”
“Public information.”
“The sentence didn’t improve.”
Sebastian sat.
“I’m not here for Carrie.”
His eyes moved toward the staircase.
“I’m here because of Grace.”
Dominic crossed the distance before anyone stopped him.
His hands grabbed Sebastian’s jacket.
“Say my daughter’s name carefully.”
Sebastian did not resist.
That made Dominic angrier.
Carrie touched Dominic’s wrist.
“Let him go.”
Dominic looked at her.
“Dominic.”
He released Sebastian.
Old Dominic would not have.
Sebastian noticed.
“You changed.”
“You don’t know me.”
“I know the man our father expected you to become.”
“And what was that?”
“Exactly like him.”
Silence.
Sebastian straightened his jacket.
Then placed a folder on the table.
DNA results.
Birth certificate.
Old letters.
Anthony’s signature appeared again and again.
Dominic read the birth certificate.
Father:
Anthony Vincent Marino.
Mother:
Elena Vale.
Sebastian’s original surname had been Marino.
It had been legally changed when he was eight.
“What do you want?” Dominic asked.
“The trust activated early.”
Carrie frowned.
“The letter said Grace’s birthday.”
“Anthony built a contingency.”
“What contingency?”
“If anyone opened the estate instructions before her sixth birthday, the trustees were required to notify all blood beneficiaries.”
Sebastian looked at Dominic.
“I got the call yesterday.”
Dominic’s eyes narrowed.
“Blood beneficiaries.”
“Yes.”
“You’re entitled to the trust?”
“No.”
That surprised everyone.
Sebastian continued.
“Grace owns the shares.”
Carrie’s voice sharpened.
“Then why are you here?”
“Because someone will try to take them.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Dominic laughed.
“You show up after forty years, tell me my six-year-old daughter controls a billion-dollar position, and expect me to believe you’re helping?”
“No.”
Sebastian looked strangely tired.
“I expect you to hate me.”
“Convenient.”
“I hated you before I met you.”
Dominic became still.
“At least that’s honest.”
Sebastian looked toward Margaret.
“My mother waited for Anthony for thirteen years.”
Margaret’s face tightened.
“He told her he would leave you.”
Margaret whispered, “He never said—”
“He said many things to many women.”
That silenced her.
Sebastian continued.
“Then when Dominic was born, the payments changed.”
Dominic looked at Margaret.
She stared at the floor.
“My mother understood.”
“What?”
“That Anthony had made his choice.”
Sebastian’s voice remained calm.
That made the sadness worse.
“She stopped asking him to visit.”
Dominic sat for the first time.
“What happened to her?”
“She died when I was seventeen.”
“Of what?”
“Cancer.”
Dominic’s anger hesitated.
Sebastian continued.
“Our father came to the funeral.”
Margaret looked up sharply.
Dominic whispered, “He did?”
“He stood across the cemetery behind a tree like a coward.”
The word hung there.
“I waited for him to walk over.”
Sebastian’s expression finally cracked.
“He didn’t.”
Carrie looked at Dominic.
He understood grief shaped by a father who was absent even when physically near.
Too well.
Sebastian stood.
“I don’t want your daughter’s money.”
“Then what?”
“I want access to Meridian Atlantic’s board records.”
“Why?”
“Because three people connected to those shares have died.”
The room went silent.
Dominic’s gaze sharpened.
“Who?”
“The attorney who created the trust.”
He placed a photograph on the table.
“Heart attack.”
Another photograph.
“The accountant who valued Anthony’s shares.”
“Accident.”
A third.
“The trustee who was supposed to contact Grace on her birthday.”
Carrie stared.
“What happened?”
“Missing.”
Dominic rose.
“When?”
“Forty-eight hours ago.”
Sebastian put on his coat.
“You can hate me tomorrow.”
He looked toward the stairs.
“But tonight, double your daughter’s security.”
Dominic said nothing.
Sebastian walked toward the door.
Then stopped.
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“Anthony wasn’t the largest shareholder in Meridian Atlantic.”
“Who is?”
Sebastian looked directly at Carrie.
“A woman named Evelyn Cross.”
Carrie’s face changed.
Dominic noticed.
“You know her?”
Carrie did.
Three months earlier, Evelyn Cross had offered Whitaker Advisory its largest contract ever.
Carrie had declined because something about the numbers felt wrong.
At the time, Evelyn had smiled.
No anger.
No threat.
Just one sentence.
“You should reconsider. Families like ours tend to meet again.”
Carrie had forgotten it.
Until now.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
A photograph appeared.
Grace.
Taken twenty minutes earlier.
Through the bedroom window.
Carrie stopped breathing.
May you like
Below the photograph were five words.
TWELVE DAYS IS TOO LONG.
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